


the color of grass

by Gummysaur



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Cheesy, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Soulmates, greens the type of person to say "get out of my school" bc he can't deal with his crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 14:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gummysaur/pseuds/Gummysaur
Summary: "You know what happens when two soulmates meet each other? They see color."Green tells him so, and therefore it's a fact. "Color" is something mommies and daddies can see, something mysterious and cool. "Color" is a thing that lets you match your clothes and care about photos and tell the difference between stop lights and go lights.One thing doesn't seem quite right though: Red can already do all of those things.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, everyone! I was gonna try and get a beta for this but I 1. am impatient and 2. don't know how to find one (lol) so here we are! I hope you enjoy this disgustingly cheesy fluff piece.
> 
> As always, I am open to constructive criticism!

Red is playing with toy Dragonite figures, sprawled on Green’s bedroom floor, when he first hears the word “soulmate.”

It’s not from Green, but rather his sister, who is downstairs on the phone with one of her friends from school. Green likes to roll his eyes whenever she laughs or says something girly like “No waayyy!” or “Seeeeriously?”, but he gives an especially big huff when she starts talking about soulmates.

Red points to the door and raises an eyebrow, temporarily abandoning the plastic Pokémon battle. Green takes a second to catch on, which is faster than the other kids, at least.

“You don’t know what a soulmate is?” he asks in a tone that really says _are you stupid?_ Red’s used to that, though, especially from Green, so he just shakes his head. Green crosses his arms and flips his hair. “It’s the two people destined for love or whatever. You know, like a mommy and a daddy.”

Neither Green nor Red has both of those, but everyone else at school does. Red points to himself, tilts his head, and furrows his eyebrows.

“How am I supposed to know if you have a soulmate or not?” Green snaps as he carefully rearranges his figures. Green likes playing by himself because he thinks Red can’t keep up with him—he plans the battles ahead of time, strategizes for both sides. Green’s always too rough with the toys and hits Red’s hands with them anyway when they _do_ play together. “You know what happens when two soulmates meet each other?”

Red shakes his head and decides to line up the toys Green’s not playing with so they match. The Water-type ones usually match—Squirtle and Golduck and Gyarados. Except Magikarp is different, it looks more like a Fire-type. He can’t really explain it.

“They see color,” he says in a hushed, show-offy tone, because he _knows_ Red has no clue what that means.

Red indulges him and tilts his head again with wide eyes.

“Don’t you know anything? Geez.”

Red waits, but Green doesn’t explain what _color_ is or how you know if you’re seeing it. He tries to get Green’s attention, but the other boy acts like he doesn’t know what Red’s doing. So he has no clue, either.

Red lets it go and plays a little more. Green has way more toys than Red does. Green says it’s because his grandfather is rich. Red has some beat-up Pidgey and Spearow figurines, but Green says they’re not cool enough to play with. Green likes playing with the legendaries. Red doesn’t mind either way, so he gets stuck with the things like Bulbasaur. Bulbasaur which looks like Caterpie which looks like Bellsprout, except Bellsprout’s head looks like Abra which looks like Psyduck which looks like Hypno. He lines them up all nice so they match.

He resolves to ask his mom what _color_ is when he gets back, but ends up forgetting.

 

* * *

 

Daisy once called Red a fashionista because he said he liked her dress. He wasn’t sure about the whole fashionista thing—Green said it was a girly thing to be. Red just liked the dress because it matched her hair. At school, a lot of the kids have matching clothes too. Red thinks he could match his own, but his mom insists on doing it because she’s an adult and can tell these sort of things better than him.

Although one day a boy comes to school with his clothes all not matching, and it bugs Red a little bit. He taps on Green’s shoulder and points.

Green looks up. “What? What’s up with you?”

Red points more insistently.

“What, what’s wrong with Derek?”

Red gestures to his own clothes, then points once more.

“I mean, yeah, his clothes don’t match. So what?”

Red taps his temples and furrows his eyebrows.

“I’m sure he knows. It’s hard to miss. Hey, Derek,” Green says loudly as the boy passes by. Derek looks up, eyebrows raised.

“What?” he asks. His eyes pass over Red, and he suddenly looks like he just saw a dead Rattata.

“Red wants to know why your clothes don’t match.”

Red flinches. He doesn’t want to bring attention to himself, he never does, but here Green goes drawing it in like a magnet…

Derek glares at Red. “What the heck are you talking about? Matching with what? Shorts and short sleeves match. My mom wasn’t home to pick, but it’s easy enough.”

Red’s not sure how to mime this one, so he grabs paper from his desk and scribbles, then hands it to Green. Green gives him a funny look.

“If you’re writing to Derek, give it to him, not me,” he mutters, so Red does so, not meeting Derek’s gaze.

The paper says: _Your shorts are like Water-type but your shirt is like Fire-type and your shoes are like Poison-type._

Derek throws the paper in his face and calls him a weirdo. Green, Red notices, is oddly silent.

 

* * *

 

Derek told the teacher about what Red wrote and the teacher told Red’s mom. He doesn’t know this until he gets home, though, and sees her sitting at the kitchen table with a frown.

“How was school, honey?” she asks, like she does every day.

_Good,_ Red signs with one hand, the other taking off his backpack as he heads to his room.

“Red, sweetheart, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Red quickly backtracks to the kitchen, giving her a nod.

“Your teacher showed me this note you gave a boy at class today,” and she unravels what he wrote to Derek. “Can you explain it?”

Red feels the sudden, inexplicable urge to cry. _Am I in trouble?_

His mom quickly shakes her head. “No, baby. I’m just curious.”

So he tells her that Derek’s clothes didn’t match and it was annoying him but he didn’t mean to be rude, honest.

“I believe you,” she says as soon as he’s done. “But I just don’t know what you mean when you say they didn’t match, and they were like Types…did he have pictures on his clothes?”

He didn’t, but Red has no clue how else to describe what Derek was wearing, in sign or otherwise, so he just nods.

His mother’s expression relaxes. “I see. And they clashed a little bit, right? Like pattern on pattern?”

He nods.

“Well, sometimes people wear funny things, but we should keep our thoughts to ourselves. If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say it at all, right?”

He nods.

“Good. You’re a good kid, Red. You’re dismissed,” she says in a bit of a joking tone, then turns to a magazine. He runs to his room and decides to play with his Pidgey and Spearow toys which have chipped-off paint and dents in the plastic.

 

* * *

 

His mother has invited some people to their house for dinner. He knows a few of them as distant relatives, but others are just work friends of his mom’s. Two of them are a couple, he thinks, because he saw them kiss at some point. Luckily, he doesn’t have to socialize because of his Thing, as Green likes to call it, so he gets to just sit in the living room and play with toys.

“Hi, Red!” he hears, and he looks up to match the voice. It’s the couple—the girl has long, Fire-type hair, and the boy has Rock-type hair and Water-type eyes. The girl is waving at him with a smile. “We’ve heard so much about you from your mom!”

Red waves shyly and looks back down. They’ll get bored of him soon. Sure enough, they quickly start talking to each other like he’s not in the room. He’s used to it, though.

“Honey, can you get my sweater?” the girl eventually asks.

“The blue one?” the boy replies, and she nods. Red looks up, confused. He taps on the girl’s shoulder, and she looks at him with her wide, Grass-type eyes.

_Blue?_ he mouths. He tilts his head and furrows his eyebrows so she knows he’s confused.

She blinks, and then understanding fills her face like it does with Green (although Green gets things quicker). “Oh, blue. It’s a color. We can see it because we’re soulmates. Do you know what that is?”

Red nods. He’s trying to think of whether or not he should get his mom to translate for him, when the boy returns. Then Red looks at the sweater, and he looks at the boy’s eyes, and he looks at the color of the walls. He grabs a pad of paper, walks and points to all three, then writes down the word _blue._ By the time he’s done the couple looks more than a little baffled.

He points to his Fire-type jacket. _What’s this called?_ he writes.

The couple exchange glances. “Red,” the girl says. “Like your name.”

He walks around the room and touches the Fire-type pillow, scissors, points to her hair, then writes, _red._

The boy leaves while he’s doing this, but the girl just sits still, eyes wide and mouth open. Excited, Red points to her eyes, careful not to actually touch, then points to the grass outside, then to the couch, and points to the previously-written _What’s this called?_

“Green,” she says in a quiet voice.

Then he writes, fast as he can, _grass type = green, fire type = red, water type = blue?_

She doesn’t respond this time, just taking the pad of paper and blinking at it. The boy comes back, this time with Red’s mother. The girl shows his mother the pad and explains what Red was just doing.

Red’s excitement bleeds away. They don’t look like how he feels. They look shocked and startled and confused. He signs to his mom, but she’s still looking at the pad and to the couple before finally looking at him and asking:

“Red…can you see in color?”

 

* * *

 

He has to go to the doctor and answer a bunch of silly questions. The doctor points to things and asks him to name the colors ( _sign_ , at least; his mother translates for him). He remembers _red_ and _green_ for obvious reasons but the other ones he just refers to as their type: the doctor’s Poison-type shirt ( _purple,_ the doctor corrects) and Ice-type _(white)_ coat and the green bed. As the doctor and his mom talk, Red idly thinks about how Green’s name matches the Grass-type. Green probably won’t like that. His favorites are the big, strong ones, that are usually Psychic- or Fire-type. Grass-types are gentle and cute, like Shaymin and Leafeon. The doctor asks if Red ever remembers _not_ seeing colors. Red’s not sure, so the doctor rephrases— _has the sky ever looked…Flying-type to you? Gray? Like my hair, I mean?_ His mom kind of laughs at that, but Red just shakes his head. The sky is Water-type— _blue,_ he thinks. Which is odd. It really _should_ be Flying-type. He signs this to his mom and the doctor explains that the Pokémon types and colors don’t really have anything to do with each other but it’s nice that he sees it that way and it shows that he has a good imagination.

Red just wants to go home at this point.

Finally, after all the dumb questions are over, the doctor explains that Red probably met his soulmate when he was very, very little, so he simply can’t remember ever _not_ seeing colors. Red asks who his soulmate is, and if he’s already seeing colors then how’s he supposed to know who they are when he meets them? And the doctor doesn’t have a good response for that, but Red supposes adults never do.

Green, though. Green has an answer for everything.

 

* * *

 

“You have a soulmate?”

Green says it like Red just told him that his house is infested with Weedles. Grossed-out, but kind of interested too, because Weedles are poisonous and that’s _cool._ If Red’s house _was_ infested with Weedles, Green would probably be more interested in catching one than the possibility of Red and his whole family getting stung. Red tries not to smile a little at the thought and instead gives a shrug, with a half-hearted _I guess so_ sort of nod.

“Well, who is it? Is it Leaf? You’re always hanging out with her.”

Red scrunches his nose and shakes his head, then shrugs again. Green starts asking questions that can’t be answered with shrugs and nods and hand waggles, so they get a sheet of paper and a Fire-type— _red—_ crayon. Red summarizes his doctor’s visit on the paper as best he can. He is very careful to draw all the letters neatly and spell them right too, but he’s not sure how to spell “doctor” so he just puts the abbreviation. That’s faster, anyway. He probably would’ve spelled “color” wrong too if he hadn’t seen the word on a poster in the doctor’s office, titled _Curious About Colors? Ask Your Physician—Or Your Soulmate!_ with a picture of a Fairy-type Luvdisc (he can’t remember the name of that color) under it. He really should learn the name of that color. Luvdisc aren’t Fairy-type, after all, it doesn’t match.

“Are you sure he was right? I mean, who gets soulmates when they’re _little_?”

Red frowns. He’s the same age as Green, except by a few days. He starts to write this, but Green ignores it.

“Who _is_ it, then? Come on, spit it out.”

Red, once again, shrugs helplessly. It strikes him that this must make him special, somehow, he’s probably the only kid in his class who can see in color. He barely has time to appreciate this before Green huffs and rolls his eyes.

“How do you have a soulmate and not know who they _are?”_ he crosses his arms. “I bet color must be really lame if you had it this whole time and never noticed.”

Red smiles. That’s his way of asking _so what’s color like?_ He can’t even hide the curiosity in his voice. So to tease him back a little, Red writes, _it’s the coolest thing ever._

“Liar,” Green spits. “You didn’t even notice it at first! I bet you couldn’t even describe it to me!”

_It’s a secret. Only people with--_ Red stumbles over the word _soulmate—solmets can know about it._

Green responds by throwing a shoulder punch, and Red shoves him back, and they wrestle each other to the floor and all the while Red names the colors of Green—his brown hair, purple shirt, brown pants—and he wishes he could share it all with him.

 

* * *

 

Red relishes in the news of his soulmate-hood for a few days before Green comes into the classroom in a huff and stomps to Red’s desk.

“Red, you idiot,” Green announces without preamble. “You said color was cool and special. Well, I went to the doctor the other day, and _I_ can see in color too.”

Red blinks.

“Apparently everyone else is like, blind. Everything to them looks like…” Green gestures to Red’s desk, which is Flying-type (what had the doctor called it? Grai? Gren?). “Like _that._ So it’s really not special at all.”

Red shrugs, and pulls out a piece of paper. _Guess not,_ he writes. _Who’s your solmet?_

Green reads it, and laughs the special laugh he has reserved for when Red is stupid, then scribbles out the word _solmet_ and writes _soulmate._

“The doctor said I probably met them when I was little,” he says proudly. “Gramps says that I went to Saffron with my mommy and daddy when I was a baby, so my soulmate’s probably a city girl.”

Red tilts his head and mouths, _city girl?_

“Yeah, Daisy talks about them all the time. You know, city girls. They’re supposed to be really pretty and cool.”

Red frowns, then carefully writes, _Well, what about us?_

“What _about_ us?”

_We both see color, so—_

Green pulls the pencil out of his hand before he can finish, and Red smacks his hand hard. Red _hates_ it when he does that. “What are you talking about?! Boys can’t be soulmates with each other. _Duh.”_

Red blinks. He wants to ask _why not?_ but Green’s walking away, pencil still in hand.

Red has a hard time focusing on the lesson.

 

* * *

 

There’s a new kid at school. He lives near the Indigo Plateau, so a lot of kids are eager to get to know him. Unfortunately, they are also eager to befriend him, which normally wouldn’t be so bad if befriending others didn’t involve being _cool._

And what’s cooler than messing around with the weird kid?

“Here’s Red. He can’t talk.”

“Why not? Is he stupid?”

“I dunno, I heard he was dropped on his head when he was a baby.”

“Maybe he couldn’t figure out how to.”

Red doesn’t look up. He knows it’s way easier to pretend he’s not hearing anything at all.

“Is he deaf?”

“No, he can hear, he’s just weird.”

One of the boys says “hey, Red!” until he finally looks up, then begins making nonsensical, wild hand movements. A few other boys giggle. “Can you tell what _this_ says?”

“What are you doing?”

“He’s got this made-up language he does with his mom.”

“Huh? Why doesn’t she teach him a real one?”

Red’s hand tenses around his pencil as he ducks his head. He doesn’t care if they make fun of him. Really. But not when it comes to his mom.

What’s it matter if he gets mad, though? He can’t yell at them, or even tell the teacher. Can’t sign mean things, either, they wouldn’t get it, probably make them laugh at him even more. He’d get expelled if he hit them. The paper in front of him blurs as tears of frustration jump to his eyes, and—

“ _Ow!”_

Red’s head snaps back up, eyes wide, as he manages to catch the sight of Green punching one of the boys across the face, hard.

In that moment, as the other boys scream and converge on him, all Red can think is that Green’s face looks a lot like an angered Ursaring, one that’s ready to _defend_ with all it’s got.

 

* * *

 

Red knocks on the door to Green’s house, and Daisy is the one who appears. She smiles a little sheepishly when she sees him and tells him that Green’s grounded now and technically not supposed to have friends over, but her grandpa won’t be home till late at night and hardly ever enforces the whole grounding thing anyway, so Red just walks in. Daisy doesn’t try to make small talk because she’s smart and just sends him off to Green’s room.

Green is lying face-up on his bed, hands meeting at the back of his head as he fumes at the ceiling. He has a bruise on his eye and a bandaid on one cheek.

“Paper n’ crayon over there,” Green says without looking at him, just pointing at his closet.

Red fetches them, about to write, when Green says, “Nevermind. I already know what you’re gonna ask.”

Red puts down the writing stuff, because of course Green knows. Green’s the smartest, always knows what Red is thinking.

“I’m suspended for a week,” he grumbles. “‘Cause I _started_ it. But those other boys totally did.”

_You threw first,_ Red signs instinctively, before remembering that Green’s bad at sign. He goes to write it down, then holds the paper up.

Green glances over. “Are you deaf, too? Like they were saying? Stupid?”

Red shakes his head vigorously.

“Right. Then you know they were the ones who were wrong.”

Red nods very quickly. He doesn’t really know how to write exactly what he feels, so he draws out the letters slowly.

_Thank you. But…It made me sad—_

He scribbles it out.

_It felt—_

Crosses it out, a bit frustrated this time.

_I hate it when you get hurt._

“Hate” is a strong word, people tell Red. But when he saw another boy throw a punch at Green, it was the only one he could think of.

Green laughs. “Whatever, who cares. I’m fine. How long did _you_ get suspended for? I’ve never seen you get angry like that before. Were they really pissing you off that much?”

Red flushes. He still feels embarrassed that he ended up fighting after all. _A week too. I didn’t want to fight, though._

“You didn’t have to.” Green picks at his sleeve, suddenly looking embarrassed. “I didn’t _want_ you to. If I did I wouldn’t have tried to protect…I-I mean. I mean next time leave it to me, or whatever.”

Red ducks his head down, crayon hovering over the paper as he tries to think of how to express…this weird fuzzy feeling. Gratitude? After a minute of deliberation, he carefully tears out a small piece of paper and draws a simple shape on it, then hands it to Green.

Green takes the drawing and squints at it, then blinks as he makes out the shape of a heart. His eyes widen a little bit, like he’s just realized something, and the paper drops from his hands.

Red tilts his head, and moves to touch his shoulder, but Green jerks away.

“You should go home,” he says, very quickly, not making eye contact. “So you don’t get in trouble.”

Then Green looks back up, and he’s staring at Red with an alien look in his eye, almost like the way other boys do at school. It makes Red want to get out of there. So he gives a small wave, and does.

 

* * *

 

Green doesn’t talk to Red anymore after that.

 

* * *

 

Once Red had found out about the trainer path, the rest of elementary school became a blur. Now, Red can’t be more glad that he isn’t attending school anymore. He can’t imagine sitting in a classroom for years and years, instead of exploring the world with a Pokémon by his side.

But he’s also thinking more and more about his soulmate. Ever since he was little, when Green denied they were soulmates, Red had just believed it, since Green was always right.

_Was,_ he thinks bitterly, quietly shoving away the rending pain of loneliness gnawing at his heart. But as he grew up, he started getting used to thinking on his own—didn’t really have a _choice—_ and realized something that made his friend’s sudden withdrawal hurt all the more.

Green was almost certainly his soulmate.

After all, they had been born in the same maternity wing; it was where their mothers got the idea for the matching names. Red had probably met Green before either of them turned a week old. But even more than that was how Red _felt._

Red knows what it’s like to lose friends. It’s a consequence of his Thing. Sometimes people were intrigued by the mute kid, then lost interest when they found out that he was an extra hassle, what with the whole waiting for him to write things down, or even learning how to sign. He’s made peace with it, and barely remembers the names of some of the kids who had sat down with him over the years.

But Green. Green’s the one Red always comes back to. When Red feels like crying in bed, it’s not over the kid with blond, sweeping hair or the one who always wore striped shirts or even the girl who asked him out as a prank once. It was over Green, who was never even all that nice in the first place. When Red feels so angry he wants to punch something, it’s because of the thought of Green, looking away like he doesn’t notice when bullies push Red up against a wall. When Red feels brave, ambitious, excited, _hopeful,_ it’s because of a childish fantasy he’d never admit to anyone—of becoming the Champion, of Green coming back to him with wide, apologetic eyes, begging for forgiveness.

And when Red hates himself, it’s because he knows he’d forgive him in a heartbeat.

 

* * *

 

He beats Team Rocket. He beats the Gym Leaders. He beats the Elite Four. When it comes down to it, he beats his soulmate for the seat of Champion. His little fantasy doesn’t come true, of course; Green reacts as badly as one could expect to being dethroned. Professor Oak comes and lauds his praises onto Red, his disappointments onto Green, and both boys try to act like they literally could not care less for the other. Red hears Green sniffling as he turns away, though.

Red silently follows the Professor as they walk into the Hall of Fame, and listens as he gives a little speech about honoring his exploits. The machine takes its time to heal his Pokémon, and suddenly the screen flares to life. Red jumps before he realizes what it says.

_Congratulations on entering the Hall of Fame!_ it tells him, with a picture of him standing in front of his Pokémon. They aren’t really _his_ Pokémon, they’re stock images—Red can tell because Charizard is supposed to have a little scar on his left leg—but it’s a nice touch. He feels a spark of relief, maybe even excitement, joy. He’s the Champion. He won. He’s on top of the whole world.

 

What good is all that, though, when his soulmate won’t even look at him?

  



	2. Chapter 2

There’s a lot of reasons for why Red runs away. He hates paparazzi and interviews and the attention. He’s afraid of the future, of the present, and he’d love to forget the past altogether. He wants to go home, but _home_ ditched him when he was a little kid and hasn’t come back since.

So he makes a new one, in the quietest, most desolate place he can think of.

If there’s one good thing, he thinks, it’s that everything is gray on Mt. Silver.

 

* * *

 

It takes years for Red to find him.

As much as Green avoided him, and as little of an idea Red had for _why,_ he knew that they were soulmates. And no matter how hard someone tries, once they find their soulmate, it gets harder and harder to stay away. Red’s done the research. He knows that the longer he hides, the more pain he would feel, the more pain _Green_ would feel. And maybe it was cruel of him, but he knew that if he hid, eventually, _some_ day, Green would come running.

It wasn’t the only reason he came up here. But he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t one of them. A last resort, if anything.

Either way, he feels almost a rush of relief when he finds his soulmate, but it’s diluted by the fact that Green’s curled up in a cave with his Arcanine, out cold, no blanket or sleeping bag to be found.

Arcanine growls at Red when he tries to touch Green, teeth bared, and Red immediately retracts his hand in surprise. Arcanine’s always been a goofy and sweet Pokemon, from what Red had picked up on during his journey and battles with Green. It’s not like the usually cheerful Pokémon to suddenly be testy.

Pokémon don’t understand sign. They do, however, understand _language._ You could tell a Pokémon to fetch the paper in any language in the world and it’d understand you. You could make up a fake language, and as long as you believed in what you were saying, they’d listen. They’d take the time.

It’s not something people do, or even something people notice. Red’s had plenty of time, though, so it’s without embarrassment or consideration that he signs to the protective creature, _I want to help him. It’s me, Red._

He then lets Arcanine sniff him experimentally, then picks up his discarded Pokéball and raises it questioningly. Arcanine growls at it, so he clearly doesn’t want to be returned right now. Red nods, gently lifts Green up—he’s not light, but Red manages—and deposits him on Arcanine’s back.

_Follow me,_ Red signs, then after a second thought, just makes the universal hand-motion for _c’mon._

Arcanine dutifully follows him and Charizard back to their home-cave, and once they’re there, he deposits his trainer with more care than one would expect of a three hundred fifty pound fire-breathing dog. Red smiles at the sight and gently strokes Arcanine’s fur, then finally focuses on Green.

He’s breathing, luckily, but what’s immediately apparent is the oven-like, dry fever heat rising up from his skin. Despite that, he’s shivering slightly, which at least relieves Red from needing to treat hypothermia. Red runs a hand over his hair.

_Okay,_ he signs to no one, since Arcanine is now busy pacing the cave floor and growling, _I need to play nurse with my soulmate who I haven’t seen in years. That’s cool._

He wraps Green in a blanket, gets Charizard to start a fire, and resolves to find some Tamato berries.

 

* * *

 

Red makes a pretty good soup, at least for Mt. Silver standards. But Green stays resolutely asleep, the only changes being the occasional mumble or incoherent word. So Red leaves the pot in a corner of the cave and resolves to warm it up afterwards. Red stays up as long as he can, waiting for Green to awaken, but ends up nodding off sometime after midnight, telling time from a little digital clock Pikachu keeps charged.

The clock’s display reads 3:44 AM when Red is jolted awake by something shaking him furiously. He whips his head around and comes face-to-face with Green’s Arcanine, who is whimpering.

Red immediately understands, and runs over to Green, mind coming up with a million things that could be wrong…

…Except Green is just lying, asleep. Or so it seems, until Red comes closer and sees Green’s eyes are wide open, so wide that Red could count the veins around the iris if he really felt like it. Not only that, his breathing is faint and slow, like he’s struggling with it.

Panic wiping the last vestiges of sleep from his mind, Red shakes Green’s shoulder and mouths his name. He only has to do so for a second or two before Green _gasps,_ like he’s resurfaced from underwater, and on his exhale he breathlessly cries out. Then he’s pushing himself up, looking around wildly with a fear one usually reserves for life-death situations.

Red just watches this, sure that his face mirrors Green’s. Hesitantly, Red taps Green’s shoulder again. Green whirls around and when he sees Red he _screams._

Red screams with him, except it’s more like a hoarse cough, more from releasing tension than any actual terror. Either way, Green falls back and barely manages to catch himself, hands behind him and arms bent, while Red draws away, arms pulled in close.

“What the hell?!” Green shouts. “ _Red?!”_

Red stares, then remembers himself. _What happened? Are you okay?_ Shit, no, wait, Green never learned sign—

But Green runs a hand through his hair and says, “Wait, wait, holy shit, I’m rusty as hell, do that _way_ slower!”

After a moment of surprise, Red does so, hoping his shakiness isn’t immediately apparent. As an afterthought, he adds, _Do you remember me finding you?_

“I do _not,”_ Green replies after a beat. “Where…where _am_ I?”

Still in about as much shock as Green seems to be, Red signs, _you’re in my house. I found you lower down the mountain._

“Lower down the _what?_ Oh, right…right, I’m on Mt. Silver.” Green grabs his hair, staring at the cave walls in disbelief. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You were _here?_ This whole _time?_ Red, I swear to…I thought you were _dead!”_

Red blinks.

Green rolls his eyes as if Red just tried to argue with him. “What were we _supposed_ to think, Red?! You seriously left with absolutely no notice! Not even your mom knew! Not only that, everyone thought you’d gone and killed yourself!” Green broke off, breathing harshly. “ _I_ thought you…that you…”

Red stares in horror as Green hangs his head, voice suddenly weakening in the tell-tale sound of someone dangerously close to tears. “I thought you were dead. I thought I…I thought I _killed_ you.” He wipes his eyes, curses. “Son of a _bitch.”_

It happens fast: one moment Red is sitting there, wondering what he should be doing, and in the next there are arms around him. Unconsciously, Red reaches up and grabs them, as if afraid they’ll let go.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” Green whispers, almost too quiet to hear, and the hug tightens. “You _idiot.”_

Suddenly the cave walls in front of him are blurry as he thinks of how many times he wanted so desperately to hear that. Green’s happy he’s safe. Green cared in the first place. Green _blamed himself_ for Red’s apparent suicide, and for a second Red realizes that even though Green’s been a dick, this whole running off to a mountain just to manipulate the soulmate-bond thing or _whatever_ was just plain cruel, and not just to Green.

Red doesn’t want to be the one to break the hug. So he traces out the word _sorry_ on Green’s back with his finger.

For a second Red doesn’t think Green will get it. But Green’s always understood him, always been the quickest on the uptake. He laughs, wetly, then says, “Are you kidding me, asshole? I’m the one who should be apologizing til I’m blue in the face.”

Red closes his eyes at that, and buries his face in Green’s shoulder.

“Don’t cry,” Green mumbles, and Red sobs silently anyway and nestles his way deeper into his soulmate’s jacket.

He smells like home.

 

* * *

 

Red wakes up with a stuffy nose and sore throat. He doesn’t notice that right away, though, because he’s tangled in Green’s arms and warmer than he remembers being for years.

Right. Generally, sleeping this close to a sick person gets you sick too. Red knows that, and yet he wouldn’t change a thing, honestly.

Red watches him sleep for a few minutes, feeling utterly content, until Green’s eyes blearily slip open.

For a second he goes rigid, and Red closes his eyes and hopes against hope that he doesn’t pull away like he always does.

Instead, he relaxes, sighs, and says “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

Red smiles. For another warm moment they just lie there, when Red impulsively starts signing.

_When I first learned I could see color, the first thing I thought was that your name corresponded to the Grass-type,_ he begins.

Green squints with an expression that says _it’s too early for this,_ but doesn’t complain about the fast sign, only says “Sorry, you thought I matched…what?”

Red re-signs it, and watches Green’s intent expression as he absorbs it. He even mimics it a little with his hands, apparently unaware he’s doing so, which is frankly adorable.

“Oh, right,” Green eventually says. “You saw colors like types, right? I think I matched ‘em with letters. Red was A, yellow was…” he sees Red’s amused expression and mistakes it for exasperation. “Sorry, my bad, what were you saying?”

_I thought it fit, but I didn’t think you’d like it._

Green rolls his eyes. “What, ‘cause all the Grass-types in Kanto are toxic?”

Red blinks, and continues before he loses his nerve. _No, because they’re all so cute and sweet._

The shade of red Green turns is absolutely delightful, and Red laughs. Green shoves him a little bit.

“So then you’d be Fire-type, right?” Green smirks at him. “Loyal and passionate, huh?”

Red ducks his head, his face feeling a bit Fire-type itself at the moment. He’s almost dizzy with amazement over the fact that Green didn’t react like a hissing Meowth to his flirting. Hell, he’s _flirting,_ he didn’t think he’d live to see the day.

After a moment’s hesitation, he signs, _you sure are being nice. Fever getting to you?_

Green’s smile dies down a little, and he looks away, rubbing the back of his head. Red frowns, hoping he didn’t touch a nerve.

“I want to make it up to you,” Green says quietly, suddenly serious. “I did some…thinking, while you were gone—” he breaks off to snort at Red’s response of _wow, there’s a first for everything_. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up. I actually run a Gym now.”

Red’s eyes widen.

“You realize a lot of things, you know? With so many kids coming through to fight, you start to see yourself in some of ‘em, and see…the, uh, the effect they have on people. I dunno, it’s hard to describe. I just…realized I’d been unfair to you. That’s…that’s an understatement. It wasn’t anything you did, Red.” He suddenly looks up, completely earnest. “You…know that, right? It was all my shitty issues that made me an asshole. _You_ never did anything wrong.”

Red has a hard time responding to that right away. At first, he wants to tackle the way Green says it, like it was dead obvious all along, that Red _hadn’t_ spent many sleepless nights wondering what was so wrong about him that Green avoided him like the plague. But he also feels like he’ll bow under the utter relief of it, that Green never hated him in the first place.

_Wasn’t obvious,_ he finally signs. _If I’d known, it would’ve saved me a lot of…_ Red hesitates. Heartbreak is too melodramatic of a word. He eventually bends his index and middle fingers and circles them around. _Trouble._

“I know,” Green says. “I’m sorry.”

_I’m sorry, too. For running away._

Green laughs, but it’s a devoid-of-humor laugh, a shrugging-things-off laugh. “I’m no hypocrite, Red. I don’t think I could be mad at _you_ for running away.” He looks at his wrists, absently rubs at them. “I mean. Look at me.”

Red doesn’t respond.

“I’ve been running since I found out I could see color. I…” He huffs in anger, but not directed at Red. “I _knew_ we were soulmates _._ Even when I made whatever excuses I made, I _knew._ I just…couldn’t accept it, you know? Not because of _you,_ Red, don’t look at me like that.”

A beat. _Then…what?_

Green stares at him. “You know. We’re both…guys. It wasn’t, it wasn’t… _right,_ back then…in a way I couldn’t explain, you know? It was just…in the TV shows I watched, looks Gramps gave, the way people talked. Boys didn’t…love boys, girls didn’t love girls. They were like, well, social commandments. I thought…” he looks away, shame and frustration warring on his face. “I wouldn’t be the one to break them. You know. I _couldn’t._ I thought I’d just leave you in the dirt. For other kids, who could…”

Red’s mind fills in the blanks. _Reply faster,_ he signs. _Laugh louder. Be manlier._

“Kids who wouldn’t cry,” Green continues, still not making eye contact. He moves to tug at the tips of his shoes. “Kids who showed off, fought all the time. Kids who talked about which girls were hot, which weren’t. I thought if I was more of a _boy,_ it would just…go away. I dunno. I was stupid. I was really fucking stupid.”

_Not stupid,_ Red signs. He leans down a little, tries to make eye contact. It’s then he notices Green’s eyes are under a sheen of tears, which Green quietly wipes away. _Just…afraid, I think._

“I’m still sorry,” he whispers, lest his voice crack. “I’m still…really sorry.”

Red quickly wraps his arms around Green, hand on the back of his head. He doesn’t have to sign his forgiveness, now. This is faster, gets the point across easier.

“Red, come home with me,” Green says after a beat, voice noticeably thin.

Red closes his eyes. He’s already home, now. But he knows what Green meant. So he nods, and they stay like that for a while more.


End file.
